


Only Ones Out There

by ThePostalDude



Category: Postal (Video Games), Postal Redux
Genre: Bonding, He Smells, Intercrural Sex, Invasion of personal space, Lots of Touching, M/M, NSFW, Sick Character, Strangers to Lovers, Target Practice, from angry to scared to HORNY, well its gonna get super nsfw in just chap 3, what would i even tag this as? its pretty out there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-09-24 09:50:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17098337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePostalDude/pseuds/ThePostalDude
Summary: You don't know anything about the dude that lives a few houses down from you, but you've had it with all the noise he's been making. It's about time you told him off.





	1. "Fireworks", he says

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know the Postal Dude is 6'8 feet tall? I thought that was interesting. :^)

     You woke up late at night to that awful racket...  _ again _ . You moved down here to get away from the noise of the city, so this place had no business being so loud at night-- especially when you were close to being in the middle of nowhere. It was the same reason too, just like always. You had to guess the dude who lived at the very end of the lane owned illegal fireworks or some crap, because he was always setting them off at random times in the night on random days, every month. You've never actually  _ seen _ the guy though, and never felt the need to make a trek down to his place to complain. Never left his house during the day as far as you knew. And while you could usually ignore such things, tonight was the last straw. You didn't spend a whole day fucking shoveling snow just to get woken up at 4 AM because some douchebag wanted to have a little light show. Even though it was cold, you dressed lightly. You didn't plan to be out for long anyway. Go over, tell the guy to shut up or you'd call the cops, get out. Get a mug of hot chocolate, and pass out back into your warm bed. That's all you wanted to do.

 

     Outside, there was almost no light save for some automatic porch lights from the other houses and the moon. They pipped on and off as you walked by, faint traces of snow crunching under your boots as you went. You did pretty good on this road, even if you did say so yourself, but fresh snowfall was already trying to fill in. You pressed onward though, determined to tell the guy off. You even shoveled  _ his driveway  _ without much thanks from him, so maybe you could use that as leeway to make him feel bad for waking you up. Getting closer, you really took the whole place in for once. Compared to the other houses along the road, it was... a fixer-upper. The other houses had families and couples, but this one house had just one lone man, and looked like it too. No lights on. You could have sworn it was awake with sound just a moment ago. Despite looking almost abandoned, there were still some hints of life-- there were footprints all around that were filling with snow, porch salted to keep it from freezing, the little things. You huffed some hot air into your hands and looked around. He even built a snowman on his lawn, the thing's face dotted with a frown.  _ Kind of weird for a man living by himself _ , you thought to yourself. You huffed and looked back to the door, in time to see the blinds in one of the windows quickly flop back into place.  _ He was watching you _ . Creepy otherwise, it just made you even more pissed. He knew he was being fucking annoying and now was hiding for it. You angrily stomped up to the door and banged on it a few times, calling after him.

 

     "Hey  _ asshole _ , do you have any idea what time it is? What's with all the noise?"   
No answer. You groaned quietly under your breath and thumped and yelled after him again. "I  _ know _ you're in there, you're not fooling me! This is the fifth time this month, I  _ should _ be calling the cops--"  
     "Don't."  
You paused mid-bang. You could have sworn you heard him say something. You leaned your ear against the door to get a better read, listening. It was almost dead quiet save for some vague shuffling. You weren't perturbed.  
     "Don't  _ what _ ? Explore my right to go to them for a noise complaint?"  
More shuffling. It got a little closer, and the man spoke up again.  
     " _ Don't _ .  **Are you one of them?** It’ll just bring swarms. Maybe... why else would you--" He cut himself off with some sort of cough, growing quiet again like he thought of the answer to his own question.

 

     Before you could pull away and yell at him again, the door suddenly flew inward. The only thing stopping you from falling flat on your face was a man taller than you grabbing you by the hair and quickly pulling you in, causing you to lose your balance and fall to the floor. You were disoriented, but you managed to roll over to finally get a good look at him. Even at this time of night, he was all dressed up-- including a rough trench coat and combat boots, and sunglasses indoors. He was sort of… rugged, and had some stubble on his face with short but shaggy hair. He really fit the disheveled look of his house.  
     "What the fuck are you doing snooping around my house at 4 AM? Don't you know how fucking suspicious that is?" The man loomed over you while you pressed yourself to the floor. He was much different than what you imagined…  _ bigger _ . More anger just bubbled up due to his statement though. The fucking audacity of this guy. You didn’t feel as terrified as you  _ should  _ have been in this situation.  
     "What am  _ I doing _ ? I had every right to come over here. What were  _ you doing _ setting off loud ass fireworks at 4 AM? Normal people would be fucking sleeping by now.”  
The man just scoffed at you, but also looked a little bewildered. He seemed just as pissed at you as you were with him.  
     “ _ Fireworks _ , he says.  **_Normal people_ ** , he says.” He grimaced, shaking his head and waving his arms in the air. “Take a look around this whole neighborhood. Do you see any fucking  _ fireworks or people _ ?”

     Alright, this dude was bonkers. He knew other people lived around him, right? But you looked around his house and felt your blood turn cold when you made a connection. It wasn’t fireworks--but guns.  _ Lots _ of guns. They were all collected in the corner of the otherwise sparse living room and were either on shelves, hooks, or just leaned against the wall. Your eyes were trained on a big, green, box-y looking one when you were grabbed by the throat, picked right up, and slammed face-first into the wall next to the collection, almost knocking the wind out of you.  
     “H-Hey, what’s with all the fucking shovi--” you cut yourself off with a startled gasp when the dude pressed himself right against your back and pretty much squished you against the wall. He had a few inches on you for sure, and you felt a hot flash of embarrassment dust your face when rough hands felt up and down your sides. They were fast, but in your head, it felt like it took  _ forever _ . It started at simple pats around your shoulders and arms, but they slowly slid down your sides and roughly grabbed around your hips, his fingers sliding over to feel if there were any bumps in your pockets. You didn’t know much about pat-downs, but you were sure they shouldn’t  _ linger _ around certain places like that. Whatever the dude was looking for, though, he seemed satisfied that he didn’t find it-- but not before running his hands back up to be safe. By now, your face was hot and almost red. He grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you around before pressing you back into the wall, so now you were face-to-face up close. You didn’t notice it before, but  _ god _ he smelled bad now that you were right in front of him. By now you were a mix of waning anger and growing embarrassment, especially with how your body was starting to react to the sudden attention.

     The dude brushed your shoulders off, still a little rough but seemingly doing it in an… apologizing manner. “Sorry about that, but I had to check to make sure you didn’t have any weapons. The ‘people’ around here may seem unassuming, but--”  
You shoved him with both arms-- which didn’t do much, seeing that he was kind of heavy set and bigger than you. That didn’t stop you from being tired of whatever the hell he was talking about though.  
     “You talk like the people here  _ aren’t _ people. What’s your deal? What’s with all of,” You waved your hands around, motioning to all of the weaponry, a small pit of dread still nestled in your stomach. “...  _ this _ .”

 

     The man almost seemed delighted at your question, which you didn’t like the looks of. He grabbed you by the shoulders  _ again _ and ushered you away from the wall before pretty much shoving you onto his grubby couch. He was the only thing standing between you and the front door, and with how big he was and seemingly about to get into something long, you knew you probably shouldn’t get up just yet. The dude turned around and plopped down on the couch right next to you, sending up dust into the air and getting a little too close for comfort. Now that he no longer deemed you a threat, he was starting to get a little... buddy-buddy. When he put his  _ arm around your shoulder _ , you knew then you weren’t going anywhere.  
     “If you’re asking questions like  _ that _ , then you must not be infected. I know it might sound a little crazy, but... it doesn’t take much to know almost every  _ single person _ in this whole city is sick. And when they get sick, they don’t give a damn about asking questions or care about other people. And if you  _ must know _ , those ‘fireworks’ were actually me doing target practice. You never know when they’ll find us. We always have to be ready, just in case. So… sorry for the noise, I guess. Thought if  _ they _ were all asleep, they’d care less. But then again, they never cared about the noise except you, to be honest.”  
     Your body still hasn’t calmed down from all of the attention earlier, and now it definitely wouldn’t go away with the way he was pressed up to you. But with the way he was going off, it just left you more confused than with clear answers-- he was just out here shooting guns at the dead of night? But he continued:  


     “Slack-jawed, only care about themselves, go through the motions of daily life like everyone else but  _ ignoring _ everyone else. Enforce things that just hurt others. It’s so easy to get  _ sick _ . You just have to look close to their tired faces, and you’d be able to see it.”  
     It sounded crazy just like he said… but you also really thought about it. You just thought maybe everyone else up and down this road weren’t much for talking. Calling them sick seemed a bit far, sure, but they never really gave you much notice unless you got directly in their way.  
     “And you don’t think I’m ‘sick’?” you asked, trying to keep your voice level. You blamed it on him just being a little tense, but he was almost squeezing you into him with his arm. He almost hummed a bit as he looked for an answer.  
     “Well… while you  _ seem _ okay... I never  _ checked _ . And my rule is,  _ ‘Better safe than sorry.’ _ Give me one moment--”

  
     With his other arm around you, there was no way you could lean away to try and escape him. The dude didn’t hesitate to grab your face with his whole hand. He wasn’t rough and didn’t hurt, it wasn’t even super uncomfortable for that matter, but he held your head in place by your cheeks and moved your head back and forth slowly as he saw fit. He got real close again too. He pretty much made you move to face him as he loomed in and looked you over for any sign of ‘infection.’ You couldn’t see his eyes past his glasses, but you  _ knew _ he was staring straight into yours. Should you even be tolerating this? You were kind of just frozen in place. Surprisingly, his touch suddenly turned gentle and he moved his hand to grab our chin, pulling down and forcing you to open your mouth. You were  _ really _ in for it now. Your mind started racing, trying to think of when the last time someone actually got close to you or even touched you like this. You hoped to god he couldn’t feel how hot your face was right then, and you tried your best to look at literally anything else in the living room.  
     Although, that didn’t stop the dude from running his thumb over your bottom lip. You almost jolted in place, suddenly hyper-aware of home much you were being squeezed into him. If he didn’t mention all that sickness stuff from earlier and showed off the guns in the corner, you would have thought he was just making up a all that stuff for an excuse to touch you. Even worse-- he must’ve sensed your anxiety or saw some joy in it, because he  _ smiled at you _ .

 

     “What’re you shaking for? You look okay to me.” And with that, the dude gave one last brush on your cheek before withdrawing completely, leaning back into his own space (but left his arm around you). “I think we two may be the healthiest people this side of Arizona!”  
     Yeah, healthy, yet you felt like you were running a fucking fever. Your eyes darted back and forth between him and the front door-- you didn’t even care about the noise anymore. This dude could go and make as much noise as he wanted for all you cared. It just felt like if you didn’t go home and go the fuck to bed  _ right now _ , you were going to do something super fucking stupid. You drew in a shaky breath as you delayed to give a real response.  
     “Do you… always go touching people that much when you first meet ‘em? Seems a little… rude, don’t you think--” God, you almost felt like you were going to choke. It’s not like you were  _ kidnapped _ or anything, so this wasn’t Stockholm Syndrome-- but his gross musk was starting to smell kind of nice to your exhausted brain. To both your absolute surprise and dismay, he seemed  _ embarrassed _ when you said that. ‘Look-in-any-other-direction’, red-in-the-face embarrassed. He stared straight ahead at the wall and his glasses drooped down the bridge of his nose slightly as he probably went over what he did in his head. God, his eyes were a weird, vibrant green.  
     “O-Oh, well-- you gotta get up close and personal to be sure about shit! Can’t go blaming me for that. But it…  _ has _ been a long time since I’ve talked to anyone else.” The dude put a hand over his mouth, rubbing a little at his soul patch and muffling his voice. “Got a bit too excited, maybe...”

     Jesus fucking Christ. You were done for.

 

     Despite his arm being nonchalantly over your shoulder, you finally found the energy to stand right up off the couch and turned around, backing away just a bit.  
     “Look, uh…” it just occurred to you you didn’t even get his name. God, this whole thing was so messed up. You were probably going to freak out about it later when you were in the right mind. “Whatever your name is-- I gotta go. It’s almost 5 o’clock in the morning, I’m tired, I don’t feel like complaining anymore-- you know how it is. And I got to know you! You’re cool so, I’m not gonna… call the cops. SO… I’m gonna go.”  
     Motherfucker almost looked  _ disappointed _ . By now your mouth was as dry as the state both of your asses were standing in, but you couldn’t stand to be so close to him for another minute. He idly nodded at everything you said, but at the mention of a name, he just waved his hand at you. “D-Don’t worry about it, doesn’t matter--” but when you reached for the door and opened it, he almost shot up from the couch before stopping right in front of you. He definitely read the mood that he’s touched you enough.  
     “Listen, if… we’re the only two healthy ones around here, I think it would be smarter if we stayed in contact. Couldn’t hurt to know the other’s okay, amirite?” The dude was trying to play it cool at you now, but by now, you knew what he was really asking. With how pale he was, he couldn’t hide his own colors either.  
     “...Here’s an idea. When you feel alright, come over again just whenever. But  _ at night _ . I think you could learn something from me, but that’s the only time when it’s safe.”

 

     That stupid motherfucker just planted the final seed in you. Hook, line, and sinker. Your throat felt too dry to really answer, instead throwing a nervous smile and nod at him, and turned right the fuck around towards your own house. The cold air did good to cool your face off as you walked a bit too fast to get back to your bed, playing the event over in your head. One part of you was thinking back to all the weird stuff he said about being sick-- but the other kept thinking back to when he was pushing you against the wall. You jokingly thought to yourself that you really should have given him a pat down back; you could’ve sworn you felt him packing heat. You skipped the hot chocolate.


	2. Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dude invited you back, and you listened. This'll work out okay, right?

    You really were a Grade-A idiot. Why the hell did you even come back here? You tried to deny your subconscious that it was to see him again. Besides, he  _ told you _ to come back at a later time. So… you were just doing what you were told. So why were you listening to him then? Your last confrontation probably broke a law, or some kind of ethical code at least. You don’t just get forcibly pulled into someone’s house, be given a pat down, see their terrifying collection of army surplus, and then start planning the next time you would see him. But you were back, at the dead of night, just like last time and just like you both planned. Why?

Because he had a surprise for you. That’s all you knew.

 

    The man met you at his front door with an almost mischievous smile. While last time he was shifty-eyed and jerky, this time the dude seemed a little more relaxed. You could almost swear he seemed a little  _ excited _ to see you. You already knew you were probably the first actually personal human contact he’s had in a long while. You don’t know how long, but you really didn’t want to start guessing. For someone so paranoid he was beginning to trust you easily now, clasping a hand on your shoulder when you got close enough. He had a large duffel bag on his shoulder. Despite being a pretty huge guy, he still looked a bit like a beanpole, so you were surprised he was even managing to carry the damned thing.

    “Honestly started thinking that you weren’t going to actually come,” he confessed. “I was kind of going through some shit last night and thought maybe I scared you right off. And I, uh… didn’t want to check back on you if I did.” He did kind of seem… a little more clear today. You could especially tell in how he carried himself.

You nervously fumbled your hands together, trying to think of something to say.

“Well… you  _ did _ tell me to come over. So I’m here.”

           The dude smiled wider and re-adjusted the duffel bag on his back. “And I'm glad! I think you're gonna like what I have planned out. Come on.”

           He threaded both thumbs under the strap of the bag and walked right past you, not even turning to look at you as he walked… towards the woods. This was the second time you were seeing him, and you were trusting him enough already to follow him off into the woods? You weren’t the smartest, but that smile on his face dragged you along.

 

You had to run to catch up while you were lost in thought, but there was a clearly carved path in the dirt, so it didn’t exactly feel like you were just walking off into uncharted territory. You never felt the need to explore the woods, since it seemed a bit too hazardous, but the dude acted like he knew right where he was going. He didn’t say much else as you both walked through the snowy woods, but you didn't have to go far. There was a clearing when he finally turned to you, looking for any emotion on your face. “Isn't it  _ neat? _ ”

         It was a clearing full of flat, printed targets and unnerving mannequins. The targets were a few yards from the both of you, and between you and them was a shoddy table full of stray metal casings. So this is where he came to practice. The dude finally got closer and heaved the duffel bag onto the table and unzipped it so you could finally see what was inside; guns. So this wasn't a regular meeting. The tall man turned to you and raised his arms in a sort of ‘Ta-dah!’ before letting them fall flat, a large grin in his face.

         “After our confrontation last night, I had a realization that you might've been  _ unprepared _ . I mean, you were surprised to see that I was! So I felt the need to take it upon myself to teach  _ you how to shoot. _ ”

        You got just a little nervous again; this wasn't really him being any ‘clearer’ than before. It just circled right back to his paranoia from last night, just not as serious. The dude seemed adamant on teaching you though, bringing out gun after gun and laying them across the table. You didn't even know the names of any of them, and some looked pretty big. That scary, box-y one wasn't there though. You suddenly realized you've never even seen guns up close or in action; you've barely seen much action movies that gave them a lot of attention. He looked back at you, watching your nervous gaze.

        “Speechless? I get it. I would be too if I saw a collection like this. It's not even my whole thing! Just half of what I got in my  _ living room. _ ”

 

       Christ, he had more. He might as well have had a whole army in his basement. You bit at your thumbnail as you got closer to look them over, trying not to freak out. It's not like he was going to use  _ you  _ as a target, so what was there to be afraid of? Your other hand brushed over the freezing black metal of a girthy looking gun with a weird cylinder, you guess you could say, below the barrel. The dude noticed your interest and picked it up without much trouble. He was more than excited to show you it.

         “You like this one? It's a pump-action shotgun! 12 gauge, uh… Moss-something, I can never remember the names sometimes. It's got a pistol grip for easy firing.” He opened a slot on the side and you saw something bright red before he closed it just as quickly. Satisfied, the dude lifted the gun up a little, aimed at one of the closer targets (and gave you a small glance to make sure you were watching him), and fired. The midsection of the mannequin practically exploded, with the eviscerated upper half falling forward as it’s back was blown out. The noise was sudden enough you couldn't help but cry out, but the dude acted like he didn't hear a thing; just quickly moved the cylinder back towards him, and the red shell ejected itself before he pushed the cylinder back forward.

        “Nothing to it.” He turned back to you and smiled at your reaction. “It's just noise, kid. It's easier to get used to when you remind yourself that you're the one making it. If you're the one being loud, bein’ loud ain't so bad. You are one nervous fuckin’ guy.” The man turned back to you and practically shoved the heavy thing into your arms, eliciting a grunt. “You try it!”

        Like hell you would. He made it look like he was holding a toy, but this thing was fucking heavy. Not even going to mention the moral gymnastics that were going through your head, because learning to shoot would come to  _ something  _ serious later on, but he seemed confident that you really did want to do this. And after last night… who were you to go and disappoint him? You still wanted to hang out with him after that weird experience, and this was a moment to prove yourself. Arms shaking, you looked back at the homemade range and pointed it at another close board with circles drawn all over it. Bracing yourself, you slowly pulled the trigger, almost yelling again when it fired. The dirt to the right of the target blew out, the gun carving out a small divot. You heard him hum and sigh next to you.

 

        “Yeah, good try, but that isn't going to cut it. I would pick another gun for your first, but usually I pick that one as a starter because they have a wider spread and depend less on accuracy. You just need to point it a  _ little bit more  _ to your left.”

        Without any input from you, the dude got close again (you were starting to realize he didn't know much about personal space). He moved to press next to you and put his hand on the cylinder where yours was, cocking it back and then front to reload it.

       “Here, I'll help you aim. You're not going to get anyone like this.”

       “ _ G-Get someone? _ ” You looked at him with widened eyes, barely registering that he was touching you again. The man stared you down from behind those glasses a bit before shrugging.

        “Bah, nah. This is just… just in case. Don't worry about it.” You didn't feel reassured very much, but now you could focus back on the task at hand-- and that he was holding you. One hand was on yours along the barrel of the gun and was helping you keep it up, but the other was wrapped around your shoulders. The dude helped you carry the damned thing, but you were still shaking just a bit. His face was pressed to yours as he tried to aim it, bringing the barrel of it up and to the left more. His voice was barely a whisper and it almost made your heart skip a beat:  _ “Fire.” _ You pulled the trigger. The cardboard sheet blew right off the metal wiring that was stuck in the dirt, splattering the ground with white bits. The dude let go immediately and was cheering, clapping (or smacking) you on the shoulder.

        “Alright alright alright, first target! And you didn't even scream this time! Come on, a few more--”

        “A  _ few  _ more?” You put the shotgun back down on the table with a loud thud, still a horrible mix of flustered and fearful. But you still wanted to indulge him just a little more. “How, uh… how many guns you got?”

 

         It ended up being 7 guns. The shotgun ended up being the  _ easiest _ , but also the AK-47 and hand cannon were cool to use. But there was also an ‘uzi’ (which was a nightmare), a sniper rifle which was… fickle, a lever-action shotgun, and one large one you couldn't even pick up  _ with  _ his help. And that was another thing. He helped you hold and aim the guns every single time, save for the uzi and hand cannon, but he was still there with his arm around your shoulder and pointing you where to shoot with tips on the side. If there was an excuse for him to be touching you, he found it. By the time he felt you knew more about guns than when you started did he finally pack everything up and take you back to his place, walking close to you the whole way… and thank god for that. It was almost 5 AM and you were beyond exhausted, not to mention cold.

         Neither of you said much on the way back. Your ears were still ringing and you were wheeling from being awake for so long. You couldn't believe he lived like this… but then again, you sorta could. He was a weird guy. The only time the dude spoke again was when you were in the (not much) warmth of his house and chilling on his couch, offering you some hot chocolate. He carefully laid the duffel bag in the corner before grabbing his own mug and plopping next to you, still getting close. This time he didn't even make up a reason to wrap his arm around you and nonchalantly drink from his mug, and you didn't even want to question it. You actually liked the quiet affection. If the dude wasn't saying something strange, he was quietly getting close to you. That was the only time he felt actually lucid.

 

         You held the warm cup in your lap and leaned a bit closer into his hold to try and keep warm… you weren't even sure if he had a heating bill to pay. You guess you should thank him. This was probably his idea of a good time. Or a date.

        “Uhh… thanks for taking me out. No one's hung out with me in a long while, you know?” You yawned and leaned back, thinking the night over. “I can't keep fuckin’ comin’ at  _ 4 am at night  _ though. It's throwing my schedule off. Don't you think we could… meet earlier?”

    "You're welcome! I actually had a lot of fun. Not a lot of people to talk guns with." You were surprised (and almost a bit insulted) to hear the dude scoff. “4 AM's a good time, in practice. Then no one can bother us if we're loud, you know? We can be alone _. _ ” The dude laughed and squeezed you in a side hug when your face turned red. He almost cocked his head like a dog. “Did you know you blush easily? You look like a tomato kid.  _ And I'm the fuckin’ ginger here. _ ” That got him laughing again. He had to set his mug down to keep him from spilling it.

 

         You almost felt like slapping him, all in good fun though. Him pointing it out made you blush harder. Did he even know how provocative he was? You couldn't argue with his logic on being alone together though. That almost made it sound like being up ‘til 5 AM was worth it. With him getting back into talking, he was already trying to make up a scheme to get you to come over again, as if you needed to be sweet talked to come back. All he needed to do was say the word. Even after you both finished the hot chocolate, you stayed just a bit longer, blaming the cold for being your reason you didn't want to get up just yet. You both  _ really  _ liked making up excuses.


	3. Bedridden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dude stood you up on hanging out-- turns out he's got a reason.

     You started seeing him a little bit more after that. All the visits and quiet touching became routine. One part of you felt it was just because you were supposed to, visiting him that is. The dude obviously hasn’t had any contact with anyone ever since he moved here, and you were a positive force in his life now, it seemed. Not to mention he would seem more calm and grounded when you hung out with him, so visiting him felt like you were doing some kind of good. The other part of you just felt completely fucking enthralled. You felt like there was still stuff about him you needed to learn. You still didn’t even know his name. That part… was still not very smart of you, especially since every time you asked he would just brush you off. But he knew your name now just fine.

     It was one day, however, that he failed to show up. He was adamant against it at first, because you were trying to coax him out of his house in the middle of the day with the idea to come visit you. You didn't even live that far, just a stone's throw away, but he almost seemed agoraphobic he didn't want to do it so bad. The dude finally accepted on an agreed day, but then he didn’t show. You even waited a few hours, just giving him the benefit of the doubt that maybe he was taking care of something first. You got frustrated after a while though. You would be damned if he stayed in that house any longer.

 

     Going to his place felt normal now. You didn't feel any hesitation just plain throwing the front door open and walking in, but you didn't see any sign of him. His guns were where they should be and everything seemed to be in place, but almost all the lights were off. You were sure by now that he was comfortable with you snooping around a little, so no harm could come from checking his room to see if he happened to have slept in (since he was so prone to staying up ‘til morning). You pushed open the bedroom door, poking your head around. You realized you've never really been in his room before. His kitchen and living room were a bit messy but bare, besides stray boxes of ammunition and guns. His room was just a mess. Clothes were all over the floor and beer cans piled up on the bedside table and window sill, and more of his gun collection spread out over his room. The dude himself looked just like his room; he was sprawled out on top of his bed fully clothed and breathing hard, his hair plastered to his face with sweat. He was fully awake and jerked his head to look at you, but didn’t make any move to get up. “Dusty… s’at you man?”

     “What the fuck? You... look like shit.” Couldn't help but be straight to the point. You kicked over some of the clothes to get to his side of the bed and put a hand to his forehead. He was burning up like Hell. Now you were less frustrated and a little more worried. “When’s the last time you left the damn bed?”

     The dude grumbled and turned his head away from your cold hand, his whole face flushed. “Uhhh… can't remember. Thank God you’re here though… I feel like shit pal.”

     You grimaced. This looked like one hell of a fever. You quickly excused yourself to go look through his bathroom. There was a medicine cabinet but it had barely anything inside-- pills, but not for fever. The kitchen ended up being just as bare. “Hey, why the fuck do you barely have anything in here?”

     The dude groaned at your yelling. “Do I look like the kind of rich guy who buys _all the medicine?_ ”

     Fucking of course. You were pretty sure the guy probably checked for wire-taps throughout his home at least once a month. You had to go with the next best thing-- keeping that fever down the old fashioned way. The guy at least had basic kitchen utensils, so you filled a tall glass with water and ice and sat it down on his bedside table. “Clothes off.”

     There was a pause without much answer, and looking back, he was giving you… an almost smug look (as smug as someone who was extremely sick could get). It was kind of weird.

     “What?”

     The dude rolled his head away from you (probably how he’d roll his eyes) and scoffed. “I’m fucking cold. I’m not taking my clothes off.”

 

     Did he really not know what a “fever” was? Instead of digging into an argument with him, you got a little bold. You reached over gently at first (from which he didn’t flinch, surprisingly) and pulled his sunglasses right off. That got a reaction out of him-- the bright sun hit his sensitive eyes, which were red around the edges.

     “FUCKING hell-- I thought you’re trying to help me out here?”

     Could he be anymore of a bastard baby about this? You set the glasses down on the bedside table. The next article you weren’t so nice with-- you grabbed him by the lapels of his trenchcoat and pulled at it, but that only got more grumbling. Thankfully, he swatted at your hand to pull at it himself. “You’re gonna crinkle the fucking leather pulling at it like that!” He threw it off the bed after just worrying about it a second ago, the thing letting out a heavy thud when it fell to the floor. At least it shaved a huge bit off of all he was wearing.

     “Dude, just do this for me-- do you understand what I’m trying to do here? I’m not gonna undress you myself.”

     He sneered at you a little, but he was overall working with you now. “I think I’d prefer you taking my clothes off for me, but this’ll work.”

     While you would have rolled your eyes any other time at that comment, at this point… it was cute. He started to get more bold like that the more you hung out with him, and now you didn’t react as rudely as before. And you think he was starting to realize that, making him just even bolder.

 

     You stood there and watched him undress-- but he definitely knew you were hardcore staring. You only said it was to make sure he didn’t pull any funny business and try to keep his shit on, but he just rolled his eyes at you again and kept going. You had to say, you didn’t realize how good he looked without his sweater on (but you also didn’t realize he was a madman for wearing a sweater and a leather trench coat out in Arizona). He finally slipped is jeans and socks off from under the blanket and weakly kicked them off the bed, spent from *just* having to take his own clothes off before flopping back onto his pillows. Now he was looking pretty grateful for that glass of water you set aside. The hardcore fever didn’t lessen his humor though.

     “Alright Dr. Dusty, what’s the diagnosis? How many days do I got left?” That water definitely brought his cheeky smile back and put some kick back into his voice. You sat on the edge of the bed half-on and half-off, putting a hand over his sweaty forehead. He was still pretty warm, but taking his clothes off did a lot.

     “Not to ruin your day more than it already has, but you’re gonna have to stay in bed until it goes down. So… no walking, just lots of fluid and food.” The thought of cooking for him crossed your mind. What the hell did he even have to eat around here, if anything at all?

     “Stay in bed? On a beautiful day like this? Not gonna leave me alone are ya?”

     As if. He would probably straight up die without you… besides looking a little better already. You swept his bangs back again (and lingered slightly in his hair) before wordlessly getting up, leaving him picking at you while you went back to the bathroom. He definitely needed a cold, wet rag for his forehead if he was going to get any better.

 

     When you came back in, though, he was giving you that look again. Something smug like you were about to walk right into a prank. You bent down next to him in his bed to wipe the cold rag over his forehead (and made sure to mess with him a little by cupping his chin and pulling his face up to do it) when he finally spoke with that same I-know-something-you-don’t feeling in his voice.

     “Say, Dusty… how good’s your immune system?”

     You looked at him while you swept the rag to wipe his hair back. “What?”

     Before you could really ask again, the dude was up and digging his arms under yours, pulling you into bed with him. He flipped onto his side to gain some momentum and fully pull you into the bed before you both wrestled each other for a second, just to end up hugged right to his chest and trapped under the blankets with him.

     “DUDE! You’re gonna give me your fucking fever--” Your arms were hugged close to your sides ashe hugged you hard, resting his chin right on the top of your head.

     “Am I? What, can’t I show my little caretaker a little bit of appreciation?”

     You tried to turn around and slink out of the bed, but he just hugged you close again, your back to his stomach. The audacity of this man. His arms were still as strong as you remembered and they held you fast. The dude held you close and groaned in content, but you felt you were about to start sweating with that fever of his.

     You thought the wrestle/hug was his showing of appreciation, but that was wrong. When you finally resigned to your situation and stopped moving, you felt one of his hands disengage from the hold and slide right down your stomach. It was slow, but your stomach clenched immediately and felt more heat rise to your face, despite being hot already. Even when faced away from him you could feel that smile boring into you.

     “You sure you don’t feel hot with all those clothes on? Someone told me it’s bad to wear ‘em all when you got a fever.”

 

     You didn’t say anything in retaliation this time-- just quietly grunting under your breath as his touches tickled you slightly. You wanted to see how far he’d go if you just gave him the freedom. The man moved his head to nuzzle his nose against the back of your neck as he got to go lower, smoothing his hand past your jeans and right over your core.

     “ _Clothes off._ ” It wasn’t so much a command, more of a statement of what he was doing. He moved his other arm in tandem with the first to unbutton your jeans and slide them down as far as he could reach, and you helped out by shuffling your thighs to kick them off more. When they were more or less out of the way, his hand went right back to rubbing over your core and teasing the dip in your boxers. After being able to sort of be quiet this whole time, you gasped when he rubbed over your cock and shuffled a bit in his hug. With your pants finally down, you realized-- he took his own underwear off while you were out of the room. And he was excited.

     “Is it a little too bold of me and too late in the game to say, I think you should stay over?” You wished he asked sooner.

     “Why’re you asking me that? You think I’m just gonna leave your sick ass here to rot?” His laugh got muffled at that as he finally pressed his lips to your neck. The first kiss he even gave you, and it was on your neck.

     He liked your answer a lot actually, and he showed how much by tugging down on your boxers little by little before sliding his hand past the lip of them. Without clothing to separate the two of you, he gently ran the pad of his thumb over the tip of your dick, just teasing you. This tore an actual whine from you that devolved into a growl, not wanting to get there so soon. He seemed all but happy to hear you make noises though, because the small kisses on your skin were getting a little harder as his thumb swirled around your tip. When was the last time you really got off with someone else's help? As of right now, it felt like too damn long.

     You didn’t want him to have all the fun though. The more he teased you, the more you felt like you needed to show him a little bit of “appreciation” in return. Now that your arms were just a little more free, you lifted them up to hold onto his other arm that was wrapped around your midsection for a little bit of leverage. With something to hold onto, you moved your hips up and down with as much momentum as you could, grinding your ass right against his hard-on. That got some noises of his own out of him, muffling his own groans with your skin still. That just wasn’t fair.

     You were happy to find out, though, the more you ground on him, the rougher he got. His gentle swirling teasing turned into a rough pressing the more you grinded against him, and the more his quiet groans turned to growls. You needed a lot more than just some gentle teasing, so you made it your job to grind against him and get him more and more riled up. Soon you had to turn your face to press it into a pillow as he roughly played with your tip, still not straying any farther than that. The kisses turned into panting nibbles, and you could feel how hot his breath was even now every time he opened his mouth to nip at your skin. Before you even realized it was coming, you came, closing your thighs hard on his hand and groaning loudly into his blankets. It would have been nothing much to you any other time, but right now with someone else, you felt almost exhausted.

 

     You both lied there almost breathless as you tried to regain some stamina, the dude huddling you a little closer to his chest now. You took it upon yourself to kick the rest of your boxers and jeans away for comfort’s sake. The other man, however, wasn’t done just yet. You could tell he had some kind of idea with the way his rough hands were sliding over your bare thighs now.

     “Were you so caught up in touching me you went and forgot about yourself?” You gave a little teasing laugh and ground your ass against him again, listening to him give another rough sigh/growl in response. You really got him now.

     “I didn’t forget a damn thing.” His hands were still running over your thighs and hips. You were drawing in shaky breaths now, feeling your energy come back. With his arms more than a little slack, you had free reign to roll over and face him again, this time putting your hand on his shoulder and laying your head on his chest. He was still kind of sweaty and hot, but you could take it now. The dude's hands came up your thighs and hips and up your back, riding your shirt up-- just to come back down and rest on your hips again.

     Grabbing your hips (which jutted away from him), he pulled them forward, slowly sliding his cock between your thighs. He wasn't going in, instead just grinding right against your center-- teasing you again. Feeling it rub against you though made your stomach twist again and you grabbed onto both of his shoulders in an effort to keep yourself steady. Instead of really focusing on you, he got to work using you. He wanted to get off without all the work. You accommodated him and kept your thighs tightly pressed together to give him good enough friction while he gasped and exhaled loudly in your face; his noises were finally loud and clear for you to hear.

     You had enough with all the teasing touches from earlier though. You wanted a real kiss, and you were going to get one, even if it made you sick. The next time he opened his mouth to pant to went in, wrapping your arms around his neck and closing the space between you two to quiet him again. The dude didn't mind the fast move at all, in fact thrusting between your thighs harder as he moaned into your mouth. Every so often he would grind roughly right against your core again and make you moan, sharpening the noise by nibbling at your lip. It was to the point where you were both barely kissing each other, just moaning and whining and panting in each other’s face as you both got slowly closer.

     Since you got a head start on him, you needed to help yourself out if you were going to cum. It was hard to reach between your own legs with how tight of a grip he had you in again, but you managed to squeeze in, teasing your own tip again to get you there faster. The man was definitely close to over-exerting himself-- he was sweating again and almost wheezing, giving everything his sick body had.

     ”Come on,” you encouraged him little by little, almost wheezing like him. “... you’re almost there… just a little more…”

     His eyes were squeezed shut in concentration and sweat was beading on his forehead, his own dick now grinding against yours as he went for the final push. His stomach was pressing right against yours every time he pushed in to the base, squishing you again in his tight grip. You knew he was almost there (or maybe about to pass out) with how he started to shake, along with his moans hitching horribly. Right when you closed your legs tighter from finally reaching the end of your rope, the dude squeezed your hips to his as tremors wracked through him-- and you finally felt his warm cum slick the back of your thighs. He pulled himself back and forth a little to ride out the last of it, smearing it across your core before ultimately sagging into the bed and pulling you over with him.

 

     You both lied there for what felt like forever, just trying to regain your breath and your senses. He had both arms around you in a regular cuddling position instead of a bear hug, occasionally kissing your face and neck before you felt like drifting to sleep; now there wasn't anything between you two to keep him from touching you. You’re kind of glad that's out of the way now.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for my dude Simon who got me into Postal LOVE YA BITCH.


End file.
